Another shrug from David. “Who knows … it’s all process of elimination.”
“Yeah, well … let’s just make sure we don’t get eliminated in the process.” He turns and pokes an elbow gently against Lilly’s ribs. “Get it, Lilly?”
“Hardy-har-har,” she says, and then glances back out the rear.
They pass a familiar access road snaking off the main two-lane, a tall roadside sign glaring in the morning sun. The trademark logo, with its gold sunburst, leans to one side, the big blue letters cracked and faded and strafed with bird shit:
Walmart
Save money. Live better.
A cold trickle of dread sluices down Lilly’s midsection as she remembers the events of the previous year. At this very Walmart, she and Josh and their contingent from Atlanta first stumbled upon Martinez and his goons. In flashes of woozy memories, Lilly remembers finding guns and supplies … and then running into Martinez … the standoff … Megan freaking out … and then Martinez doing his sales pitch … and finally Josh agonizing over whether or not they should try Woodbury on for size.
“What’s wrong with this joint?” Austin jerks his thumb toward the defunct retail outlet as they roar past the lot.
“Everything’s wrong with it,” Lilly murmurs under her breath.
She sees stray walkers wandering the Walmart’s parking lot like hellish revenants, the overturned cars and scattered shopping carts so weather-beaten and fossilized they now have weeds growing up through their guts. The gas station islands are blackened and scorched from the fires that ravaged the place back in February. And the store resembles an ancient ruin of broken glass and sagging metal, empty cartons and boxes vomited out of gaping windows.
“Place got picked clean of food and supplies long ago,” David Stern laments. “Everybody and their brother had a go at it.”
As they pass the Walmart, Lilly gets a glimpse through the fluttering tarp of the rural farmland north of the property. The shadows of walkers—from this distance as small and indistinct as bugs under a rock—inch back and forth beneath the foliage and behind the dead cornstalks.
Since the advent of the herd last year, walker activity has picked up, the population of living dead growing and spreading into the backwaters and desolate farmlands that once lay fallow and deserted. Rumors have circulated that ragtag groups of scientists in Washington and underground labs out West are developing behavioral models and population forecasts for the reanimated dead, and none of it is promising. Bad news hangs over the land, and it hangs right now in the dimly lit cargo hold of the transport truck, as Lilly tries to push dark thoughts from her mind.
“Hey, Barbara.” Lilly shoots a glance at the gray-haired woman sitting across from her. “Why don’t you tell us the famous story again?”
Austin gives a good-natured roll of the eyes. “Oh, God … not this again.”
Lilly gives him a look. “You be quiet. C’mon, Barbara, tell us the honeymoon story.”
Austin rubs his eyes. “Somebody shoot me.”
“Shush!” Lilly pokes Austin, then looks at the older woman and manages a smile. “Go ahead, Barbara.”
The gray-haired woman grins at her husband. “You want to tell it?”
David puts his arm around his wife. “Sure, this’ll be a first … me doing the talking.” He looks at the older woman with that glimmer in his eye, and something passes between the two of them that reaches out across the dim enclosure and squeezes Lilly’s heart. “Okay … first of all, it was back in the prehistoric days when I still had black hair and a prostate that worked.”
Barbara gives him an amused punch in the arm. “Can you just cut to the chase, please? These people can do without your entire urinary history.”
The truck rumbles over a railroad track, rattling the cargo hold. David holds on to his perch, then takes a deep breath and grins. “The thing is, we were just kids … but we were madly in love.”
“Still are, for some reason … God knows why,” Barbara adds with a smirk, giving him a loaded glance.
David sticks his tongue out at her. “So anyway … we found ourselves headed to the most beautiful place on earth—Iguazu, Argentina—with nothing but the clothes on our backs and about a hundred bucks in pesos.”
Again Barbara chimes in: “If memory serves, ‘Iguazu’ means ‘the Devil’s throat,’ and it’s basically a river that runs through Brazil and Argentina. We read about it in a guidebook, and we thought it would be the perfect adventure.”
David sighs. “So, anyway … we get there on a Sunday, and by Monday night we had hiked all the way upriver—maybe five miles—to this incredible waterfall.”
Barbara shakes her head. “Five miles?! Are you kidding me? It was more like twenty-five!”
David winks at Lilly. “She exaggerates. Trust me … it was only like twenty or thirty kilometers.”
Barbara playfully crosses her arms across her chest. “David? How many kilometers are in a mile?”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know, honey, but I’m sure you’re about to tell us.”
“Like one point six … so thirty kilometers would be about twenty miles.”
David gives her another look. “Can I tell the story? Is that all right with you?”
She looks away petulantly. “Who’s stopping you?”
“So we find this amazing waterfall, and I mean, this is the most beautiful waterfall on earth. From a single point, you’re practically surrounded, three hundred and sixty degrees, and the water’s roaring all around you.”
“And rainbows!” Barbara marvels. “Everywhere you look. It really was something.”
“So then,” David goes on. “Lover-girl here decides to get frisky.”
Barbara grins. “I just wanted to give him a little hug, that’s all.”
“And she’s feeling me up with the water rushing all around us—”
“I wasn’t feeling you up!”